EXCLUSIVE: Forget About Manny v Horn II – The Filipino Government is About to Fall – The President Hasn’t Been Killing Drug Dealers to Wipe Out an Evil Scourge At All – He’s Been Trying to Corner the Whole Blood Soaked Bloody Market!

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We’ve just received a hot tip off the wire that the Philippines President Rodrigo Duterte is about to take the big fall.

Most Australians probably aren’t familiar with the Filipino Big Boss’s name, but if I tell you that he’s the bloke who has sanctioned all those extra-judicial shootings and executed alleged drug dealers to be murdered as they stand without the benefit of a charge, trial or conviction you’ll know exactly who I’m talking about.

They reckon Rodrigo’s killed about 10 000 drug pushers. My sources tell me that it’s at least double that and more, and that not too many of them are actually profiteers from the evil life-destroying trade. Quite to the contrary in fact, the bullet ridden corpses were in the main the people who wanted to wipe out the drug trade, and knew exactly who the kingpin among the traffickers is, was and remains.

President Duterte is the evil f*cker’s name.

The executioner is not the good guy.

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Here’s lookin’ at you kid. But not for too much longer.

He’s the Mister Big, and all of a sudden after he ordered the state-sanctioned murder of a popular good gut, anti-drugs campaigner and big city Mayor named Reynaldo Parojinog every boxing fan in the land of Manny knows it.

Today Duterte will almost certainly declare martial law.

When he does there will be mass demonstrations on the streets, and government forces will mow the demonstrators down with state supplied machine guns. Civil war will erupt in  the wake of the unlawful and utterly lawless wholesale execution of innocents, most of them justice loving young students, and before too long at all the Filipino police force will flip sides and there will be a violent coup.

It’s all Duterte’s own fault too.

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Not because he and his son Paulo were running the main drug syndicate in the country and importing huge quantities of what they call Shabu and we know as Ice. American allies Asia over have been doing that for half a century and it’s the expected and required thing. Men in charge of nations simply have to agree to share the love and everything is always sweet.

What a man in charge cannot do however is to get greedy and hold out, and then attempt to re-route the primary Silk Road methamphetamine supply road away from the US-controlled Golden Triangle and straight in the direction of the ‘Communists’ who control the incredibly profitably narcotics precursor trade in mainland China.

But that’s exactly what Duerto has dared to try and do, and now the stupid f*cker’s deader that a Danny Nikolic mount that’s blown from evens to 11-2, and a whole lot deader again, and if he thinks for a second that in the geopolitical powder keg of a nuked up and ready to go North Korea his new-found trading partners are going to haul him out of his self-created mire, he’d better think again.

If he has time to that is, because right at this moment the the Filipino President is a dead man walking, and if you thought the Romanov slaughter by the Bolshevik’s was brutal, well b-b-b-b-baby you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.

Duterte’s only hope of escaping a coup fired bullet or seventeen delivered direct to the brain is to jump on a really fast-flying Chinese Government private jet plane right here, right now, and without delay.  With luck he might be able to save some of his family too, but his favorite son Paulo won’t be among the fleeing mob.

Paulo has to be the one to pay the price for his father’s ill-fated f*ck up, and not a soul outside his family will shed a tear for his loss. Who in the world likes multi-tonne meth importers whose lust for loot is going to end up killing their kids?

The big question is though this: will the Chinese send him a fast plane to speed away on?Is there enough in it for them to take the US free trade agreement immolation risk? If they do, will the mass-murderous prick Duerto be smart enough to run full-speed up the plane’s stairs and fly the f*ck out of Manila and as far away as he possibly can? Will the Americans allow him to, or will they pump him full of lead the minute he steps foot on the tarmac?

I guess we’re about to find out.

If anyone wants to give me evens about the CIA coming out on top in this bout I’m prepared to mortgage the Geebung Polo Club to place the bloody bet.

Do You Believe in Fairies Sportsfans? – Are the Boss of the Brisbane Racing Club, the Deputy Head of Racing Queensland, and the Partner in Charge of Sports at KMPG Just Monkeys? – Do They Love Their Sheilas So Much That They’re Prepared to Drop Them in the Jail Bound Sh*t? – Or Are The Girls and Us Just All Day Suckers? – Queensland Racing’s Great Hidden Rort Revealed – Over to You Gracie Girl – Pull the Whip!

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Kathryn Wendy Adams is married to Samuel.

Samuel is the Head of Corporate at Strategy at Racing Queensland, and the man responsible for negotiating the terribly crap and extremely unfavorable lifetime licence to print money wagering deals with the state’s monopoly TAB operator the Tatts Group, trading under the registered business name UBET.

Was Sam Adams involved in cutting a highly lucrative deal with the Tatts Group that featured terms extremely favorable to that company, and detrimental to the long-term interests of the State of Queensland and to the broader Queensland racing industry?

UBET he was.

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Sam Adams, senior Racing Qld executive, and his wife Kathryn, Bet Fairy director

Natalie Suellen Whimpey is married to David, known as Dave.

Dave is the CEO of the Brisbane Racing Club.

He used to work for the Tatts Group. In fact he worked for them for over 10 years.

Now Dave does deals with UBET, and property developers, and all manner of other people that he has a pronounced conflict of interest with too.

Dave once also used to work for a consulting firm called KMPG.

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David Whimpey, BRC CEO, and his wife Natalie, Bet Fairy shareholder and director

Peter Gregory Ball works for KMPG too.

He is the partner in charge of – and benefiting handsomely from the profits of – KPMG’s Sports Network, which provides a comprehensive suite of audit, tax and advisory services to all segments of the sports sector including the racing industry.

This is Peter.

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This is his wife Tara (below, far left).

She claims to be one of the founders but unfortunately for folk like me who are keen to break the bloke-built glass ceiling it simply ain’t true.

It was actually her Hubby who set up the kickback rort show, not Tara.

He was the one f*cking the cat. Tara was just holding its tail.

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Peter Ball’s KPMG colleague Ian Hall was once the acting CEO of Racing Queensland.

Hall had been appointed by the recently elected ALP government.

Sam Adams was his deputy.

When Hall was forced out of his position due to legitimate concerns about his wholesale conflicts of interest Sam Adams was appointed interim CEO in his place.

Hall, Adams and a bloke named James Dickson, who was and is Hall’s deputy in the restructuring service – privatising – department at KPMG wrote the ‘Tracking Toward Sustainability’ report that was the driver of the decision to sell land owned for 150 years by the BRC, under the guise of a ‘joint venture agreement’ featuring a ‘reverse loan’ which results in all profits from the ‘joint venture’ flowing away from racing and back to the buyer as interest paid on loan that the racing club never needed to take.

Dave Whimpey was the CEO at the time the Brisbane Racing Club entered into the crazy commercial arrangement that gave the club absolutely nothing and gifted its ‘partner’ an ever-flowing absolute motza.

Are you starting to get the picture sportsfans?

Sam Adams.

David Whimpey.

Peter Ball.

Their wives.

These three c*nts sold Queensland Racing straight down the bloody river, and they continue to it still. Top blokes that they are they have used their wives as cover.

Nice lads, nice.

I’d love you to be standing alongside me in the trenches at Gallipoli.

Not.

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Peter Ball, Whimpey’s wife Natalie, and Adams wife Kat are the three directors of a seemingly innocuous company named Year of the Monkey, which is a shelf outfit that serves no purpose at all other than to trade under one of its registered business name Bet Fairy, which feigns that its a gambling software services provider, but in really serves as nothing but a vehicle for the venal boys to sluice the vig from their even more greedy and corrupt corporate money-minting mates.

An absolutely outrageous allegation I hear Messers Adams, Ball and Whimpey cry.

Oh yeah.

Boo hoo.

Please sue.

It’s all your mate Richard’s fault fellas. He shouldn’t have acted like the bully boy f*ckwit that he is and picked the wrong mark to try and put the bash on. Puh-lease! I’m from Geebung, do you reckon that legal threats from fat shiny suited gutless f*cking goose would cause me to lose a single second’s sleep? I’ve been in a stoush with Gorgeous George over a woman and stared the big-time legitimate business man down, and that Wog hombre is what anyone with half a brain would call a genuine f*cking tough guy. (Despite all his faults he’s a damn good guy too, unlike you: you’re just pick-pocketing piss ants).

The reality is that I’d never have gone looking if Dickie hadn’t p*ssed me off so much, the goddamn ill-judged idiot. It was his intemperance that was the trigger for the metaphorical gun I’m firing that’s going to bring you all down. Don’t worry though boys, I’ll cross claim against him on your behalf.

Shame you had to drag the girls into it though. Such is life I guess. At least it will give the other Mums at your kid’s flash schools something to talk about.

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Bet Fairy is an affiliate partner of UBET – the company that Adams negotiates deals with on behalf of Racing Queensland and inter alia the State – and Bet Fairy gets paid spotter’s bonuses for attracting new UBET account holders, and commissions on their turnover.

At first glance Bet Fairy may appear to be simply a social media platform designed specifically for ill-informed dollar each way punting sheilas who don’t know how to read a race form, and thus need to shake their mobile phones upside down so it can remind them what their lucky numbers are and tip them into which horse to back, which seems strange given that to make the program work the Bet Fairy user had to input their lucky numbers into the phone just a second or two before.

Seems bloody silly doesn’t it? No-one who ever spent more than ten bucks on the punt on a Saturday afternoon would ever use such a stupid gimmick software app, and there is no way in a million years that huge amounts of wagering turnover would be flowing through Bet Fairy into UBET accounts and then back out to the Bet Fairy owners again as commission is there punters?

Oh yes there is.

Never judge a book by its cover.

Bet Fairy is nothing at all like what it appears to be.

The fix is in sportsfans.

This is Queensland, and this is racing.

The fix is always in.

But suddenly the suckers have been sprung.

To be continued ….

 

A Fortnight Out From the AFL Finals Series and It’s Time to Look Back on Our Early Season Predictions – “Archie Goes the Early Crow and Calls the AFL Season in April” (First Published 4 April 2017)

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Well sportsfans we’re only 2 rounds in and dead set it seems that the tail end of the 2017 is already carved in concrete on the pitch that Adele left as her parting gift to the adoring faithful at the Gabba. Of course our grass man up here, curator Kevvie Mitchell (Jr), has turfed over the foul-mouthed big girl’s footy tips – he had to so he could get the wicket for the first test match ready 7 months in advance – so it’s left to Sir Archibald Geebung Butterfly (that’s me) to give you the good oil, and here it is.

The Suns are totally cactus. Gaz – my favorite player since he first laced on a boot – is playing with half a shoulder, a bunch of blokes most of whom would be better placed in country footy, and the enthusiasm of a jumps jockey copping clods of sodden turf in the scone as the three-legged mule he’s on lingers half a dozen lengths behind the pack in a Port Augusta three mile maiden hurdle.

Brisbane’s finest are all playing rugby league, leaving our other two footy teams bereft of talent, guts or will and standing as nothing but a joke. The Queensland Reds have an excuse – they play a crap code and can’t attract juniors with any ability – but the Lions have nothing to explain away their moribund and still sinking further into the mire state other than bad coaching and even worse management, both on and off the field.

Lethal Leigh may well have been a legend both on the field and as a coach, but f*ck me he’s proven a terrible football club executive. You can’t be good at everything I guess, but how do you forgive recruiting an off the rails Fevola at the price of a near million a year when you already have Browny up front, then sacking Vossy as coach for his crime of recruiting Fev when in fact he had nothing at all to with it and argued against, and then replacing him with a bloke who’d never coached a team in his life and was regarded by one and all as a lunatic on the field and a half-baked ordinary judge of the game off?

Simple answer: you can’t. And thus Brisbane are destined to the bottom four for a decade. It’s the perfect example of why the management of footy clubs should e totally divorced from the club director’s post-footy off-field personal interests. Thanks a lot Lethal. For nothing.

Conversely to the couple of Queensland embarrassments, after a couple of horror seasons involving murdered coaches, banned players and decimated rosters, in 2017 the two Adelaide teams are rapidly on the rise and both look the real deal.

After becoming the unwitting victims of the Danks debacle the Power finally get the opportunity to earn a return on their super-sized investments in Monfries and Paddy Ryder, and they are a pair that any team would welcome into their roster. The added bonus for Port from the return of the two is that the ever-improving Charlie Dixon – yet another superstar in the making lost to the Suns due to poor management – is given room to move and to grow his game, and his 4 goals last week against the hapless Freo show how much the probable Brownlow Medal runner-up (see Hawthorn below) is loving it. A betting man would be a fool not to at least have a saver on Port to steal the flag.

Equally – nay, more so – the Crows look the real deal this season, and they are my tip to take the trip to September glory. Any side that can throw two of the best five players in the game in Eddie Betts and Tex Walker on the paddock is always going to be bloody hard to beat, and when you throw in ever-improving future greats such as Tom Lynch and Matrt McGovern, and couple them with an across the board 6 foot plus backline, you have one hell of goddamn footy team. One good enough to win the flag in this third-rate scribe’s humble opinion.

To the West, and Fremantle are well and truly f*cked, despite Nathan Fyfe’s Brownlow Medal winning standard performances in the first couple of rounds, while still playing on one leg. Ross Lyon may well be a genius at rebuilding a rooted side but by jingo he’s got a lot to answer for by not pulling The Purple One from the field in the preliminary final in 2015 when even my half-blind Aunty Aggie could see he’d busted a bone. It was the worst coaching call since the Suns started God Jr in 2016 before his shoulder had properly healed, and reaped the same result: a superstar out for a season. Lawsuits will at career’s end surely follow.

The West Coast look good, but they have for the past half a decade and are yet to deliver so what’s new? Due to the ill-will rained upon them by the footy gods will be forced to play through the season without their talisman Niccy Nat (it’s funny how both desert fringe dwelling teams from the West rely so heavily on Nats), so unless Benny Cousins gets clean, jumps in a Tardis and treks back ten years in time you can confidently back the Eagles to give you a thrill or two throughout the season, but to traverse no deeper into the finals than the first round, and you can tear up your tote ticket now if you’ve flung your cash on them to go any further.

The Cats are the Melbourne Storm of the elite Australian Rules game. They are flying as Scotty the Elder continues to draw suckers from opposing outfits into double-team defending the Danger Zone, just as Craig Bellamy fools opposition NRL sides into exposing their flanks so that his lethal Fijian flyers can dive over for a try in the corner, but just as league coaches eventually work out how to counter the Storm by season’s end so too will equally as wise coaches with a wider range of cattle in their paddocks figure out how to counter the Cats one-dimensional game plan, and the cracks in the Cats line-up will be eventually exposed, although most likely not until the second week of the finals.

The once star-studded squads of Collingwood and Sydney are both looking time-worn and as if they’ve seen better days. The pair of long-time big guns of the huge oval will no doubt remain competitive in the top tranche of the comp, but the 2017 flag is as far away for them as my first million is for me, and trust me it recedes into the horizon with the going down of every sun. No Nankervis, no McGlynn, no Tom Mitchell, no hope, although at least Buddy gets to bed down with Jacinta after a loss. All I’m left with is the aging Bead Twirler, and she comes with neither a $10 million back-ended contract or a DJ’s modelling gig. Such is life I guess.

Hawthorn. Oh, Hawthorn. I’ve seen better days famously Bernard Fanning sang, and so have the Hawks, and I’d write them off for all money except for one thing: Jaeger O’Meara. This kid is an absolute superstar – so good that he was the pivotal reason God Jr moved to the coast – however due to his uncanny ability to cop serious season-ending injuries we have never had the chance to see even half of the best of him, and as much as I hate Jeff Kennett’s beloved flag-bearing crew I’m the first to concede that if the Jaeger bomb can stay fit and on the paddock for the bulk of the season not only is he is a certainty to win the Brownlow – get on now while the odds are still good – but that anything’s possible for a mob with him leading the way.

St Kilda? Puh-lease. Nudge, nudge, wink, wink, say no more.

Richmond have the same problem that they’ve had for the past couple of seasons – although this year Damien Hardwick’s trying to turn it into a positive spruik rather than the negative knock that it really is – that problem being a lack of big men at the front end of the machine. The Tigers defend as if their lives depend upon it, but Blind Freddie and his missus Maud have known for years that what’s been standing between the black and golds and a September day in the sunshine is a bit of tall timber, and due to the vagaries of the draft and the off-contract player lottery – plus the exorbitant amount they pay Happy Jack – the club has been unable to address it. Riewoldt is an undoubted genius but he needs a beanstalk alongside him if he’s ever going to climb to the top of the tree.

North Melbourne remain the perennial Kangaroos. They bounce to the heavens when they’ve got a bot of momentum flowing, but what goes up must come down and they just can’t seem to stop getting themselves caught in the headlights in the games that matter and ending up as road kill. Great coach, good roster, game and willing, but not quite there yet and this punter for one is not sure if they ever quite will be. It’s the manifest destiny of the second born twin I guess, and if you don’t believe me just go and have a chat to the Waugh boys.

The D’s, Bombers and Blues are all teams on the rise after long Christ-like spells in the desert and will collectively cause more than a couple of upsets against some big names this year, but I reckon 2017 is 12 months too early for each of the trio. The three are all well coached though and each boast a number of budding superstars on their roster, so they’ll all be fun to watch in games where the ball bounces their way.

I dunno what to make of GWS. The Giants punched well and truly above their weight last year, and Sheedy’s brilliantly planned recruitment strategy should result in leaps and bounds style further improvement that would make them near favorites for the flag, but for reasons that I can’t quite put my finger on – call it the St Kilda sweats – I have this strange lingering doubt about their residual ability to kick on and will at the risk of looking a mug call them non-starters in the big one, although I won’t be at all surprised if I end up getting it wrong.

The Bulldogs are the other big question. Can the fast running, hard-hitting, small men with big hearts and huge guts strategy work two years in a row? Possibly. Maybe. Perhaps. Yes. No. Nah. I dunno. You work it out yourself.

I have.

Adelaide to win the flag, with a saver on the Hawks; and O’Meara to win the Brownlow, with a catch me if you can on Charlie Dixon just in case.

Don’t say you weren’t told.

Editor’s Note: Jager OMeara copped another crippling season-ending injury in the middle of June, and when he was carried from the ground the Hawks season and Archie’s speculative long-range Brownlow bet went on the stretcher with him. The footballing future for the young man with a freakish talent but a seemingly terribly fragile physical frame now looks bleak indeed.

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Fake Kings, an Almighty Hayne Plane Fit Up, A Bunch of Clowns Who Wouldn’t Know an Inside-Out Move From an Elephant,and a Weak-Gutted Man – The True Tale of Neil Henry’s Sacking as Titans Coach – Brought to You By a Sportswriter Who Has Half a Brain and Some Small Clue About Footy

We danced like New Years Eve
We danced from sheer relief
Everything must change

In the last act of the longest circus show running in Queensland the Gold Coast Titans coach Neil Henry has taken the high dive after being pushed from the platform this afternoon by the club’s management.

Most of the so-called media experts – many of whom wouldn’t know an inside-outside play from an elephant – are running around town looking their readers in the eye and having ’em on that Henry’s drop-punt into touch and out of the NRL has been solely caused by his failed showdown with the Titan’s start player Jarryd Hayne.

These of course are the same clowns who for years have also called the sacked coach ‘King’, and take it from me they’re wrong on both counts.

Sure Neil Henry’s foolhardy decision to declare a duel to the footy death with Hayne played a large role in his demise, but that ill-considered call is just indicative of the broader problem and the real reason that the Titans have decided to toss him.

The plain truth of the matter is that when it comes to the coaching caper the bloke’s a nothing but a bum, a gold-standard punch-drunk Palooka who couldn’t tell the difference between a Grand Final and Godzilla, After his latest sacking will never get the chance to find out either, not on Australian shores anyway, although I hear rumours the Serbs are looking for someone to replace the equally over-rated Brian Smith as the coach of their national team and could be keen to install Henry before the upcoming big game in Belgrade against Bosnia-Herzegovina.

How do these blokes like Henry get bestowed with such big wraps anyway? In the so-called “mater tactician’s” case – remember what I told you about in-out plays and elephants – it’s certainly not on his coaching record that’s for sure, because it’s absolutely bloody appalling.

In fact with a career win-loss percentage of just 42% Henry’s is the third worst record of any coach in the NRL, better only than that of Stephen Kearney (27%) – who’s not a coaches arsehole and only has a job because no other bugger likes pain enough to want either to live in Auckland or to coach the Warriors – and Trent Barrett (43%) who’s new to the game and saddled with the huge twin handicaps of having Daly Cherry-Evans as his star playmaker and a board full of boofheads as his bosses.

Neil Henry has no such excuses. He has 248 games to his name as against Barrett’s and Kearney’s 64, and unlike the other poor hapless bastards who’ve spent their careers steering no-names around the park Henry’s had genuine superstars backed by rock-solid squads at his disposal for seven of the last nine years of his coaching career, and still he hasn’t coached a single team to September glory, or even scored a runner’s up medal.

(Admittedly Kearney did have the Hayne Plane in his squad for 2 seasons, but do you remember the rest of the hopeless hacks the big Kiwi had running around in Eels jerseys back then? Go on, name three of them).

Jesus Harry Christ and his mother Mary wept. Who the hell but Henry could coach JT and big Matty Scott for five years and still come out at the end of their contract with a losing record? No-one but Stephen Kearney or Billy the blind banjo player in the Bundaberg Mall, that’s who.

Like all sports the great game of Rugby League is a numbers game, and coach lives or dies by what the calculator spits out at the end of each season. So have a look at these numbers – they’re the career records of each of the current NRL coaches barring Barrett and Kearney who we’ve already covered.

Bellyache (Craig Bellamy: Storm) – 67%

Robbo (Trent Robinson: Roosters) – 67%

Benny (Wayne Bennett: Broncos) – 62%

Greenie (P:aul Green: Cowboys) –  62%

Madge (Michael Maguire: Rabbitohs) – 62%

D*ckhead Des (Des Hasler: Bulldogs) – 58%

Hook (Anthony Griffin: Panthers) – 55%

That Poor Bastard (Nathan Brown: Knights) – 52%

Flanno (Shane Flanagan: Sharks) – 51%

BA (Brad Arthur: Eels) – 50%

Sticky (Ricky Stuart: Canberra) – 49%

Mary (Paul McGregor: Saints) – 47%

Ivan the Terrible (Ivan Cleary: Tigers) – 47%

Hapless Henry (Neil Henry: Titans) – 42%

Does that tell you the tale?

Star players like Jarryd Hayne don’t get the sh*ts and come out swinging when they are being well-coached and playing in a winning team do they? They don’t even complain when they’re playing in battling outfit during a rebuilding phase, as long as they feel that their skills are being utilised properly so that they can help the young blokes and the battlers on their team to improve their collective games.

In fact if you put aside your preconceptions and the wild spin from the in and out pass elephant brigade and actually take a close look at Hayne’s record you will see clearly that for all his fault’s the Plane is actually the consummate team, and doesn’t complain about his coaches at all.

Or never has until now anyway, and what’s Hayne supposed to do when Henry blindsides him and throws him to the wolves by publicly pointing the finger of blame at him for the team’s failure in a completely obvious and utterly cynical ploy to distract the faithful from his own massive failings as a professional football coach? And does it without even paying his star player the simple respect of speaking to him about it first?

It’s a fit up and a f*cking disgrace is what it is, and the media fools who fell for the “masters strategist’s” shallow attempt to excuse his inability to coach a team packed with gun players to the requisite first-grade standard should all hang their heads in shame. They all owe Jarryd Hayne a bloody big apology I reckon.

As for Neil Henry, not only has he failed in his ploy to pull the wool over punters who know their footy’s eyes, and placed the Titan’s superstar player in a totally unfair and invidious position, he’s gone a step further and disgraced himself as a man.

There’s no longer any place in the NRL for Henry, or any more rocks under which he can try to run and hide.

The ‘King’ is dead.

Send his footballing carcass in a coffin to Siberia post haste by express post. The Serbs can bloody have him warts, weak character and all, and Neil Henry will feel right at home. After all they won’t mind too much that he couldn’t coach a cockroach to win a race against a slug up one side of a dunny wall.

They’re used to losing footy games anyway.

 

The Toker, The Little Jokers, the Red-Hot Looking Labor Leader and Me – Or Why Tyranny’s Just Another Name For Tossers Who Watch Too Much Reality TV and Don’t Punt on the Gee-Gees at the Track

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Well who ever said Archie Butterfly was a mad raving lunatic who spoke sh*t and didn’t have a clue?

Muffled sounds drift in from the kitchen….

“What’s that Mum?”

“Three quarters of Bloody Geebung did”

Don’t worry about those wankers Mum.

They’re just the clowns who don’t punt; they’ve got no bloody joy in their own lives so they just run around trying to pull everyone else down so that they don’t feel so bad about their own boring miserable lives. That reefer-pulling French joker The Toker was onto them.

He called it the Tyranny of Democracy, arguing that these non-punt loving nobodies were so bloody stupid that they didn’t even know how to put frangers on properly, and as a consequence the clowns bred at 5 times the rate of intelligent people who innately understood that if you allowed your missus to pop out eight tin lids then feeding the little snot-bags would eat into your punting bank so badly during the week that as the horses headed onto the track for the first race in Sydney on Saturday arvo all you’d have left to bet with was a shirt pocket half-full of shrapnel.

The ultimate result according to The Toker would be twofold.

The first would be that these brain-dead non-betters and their sniveling spawn would swamp the welfare system, as no businessman with a brain would pay them more than the minimum wage because they weren’t worth it, and this huge influx of unwashed imbeciles flooding onto the benefit bandwagon would cause an E=MC squared reaction that would inevitably lead to a crackdown on welfare fraud and f*ck it up for all the good people in the world.

And wasn’t he spot on sportsfans?

The days of taking two Australian and one Kiwi dole cheques, a couple of Austudy advances and 4 lots of rent assistance to the track on a Saturday morning and swapping them with your friendly bookie for a wad of puntage cabbage in used, unmarked notes of mixed denomination disappeared so long ago that now they just seem like a wild dream.

The second thing The Toker said would happen is that by breeding like rabbits the non-punting parasites would overrun electorates the wide brown land wide, so much so that in no time at all we’d find that the soap opera loving losers and reality TV junkie retards would unwittingly end up as majority bloc of ballot paper tickers in every Australian election local, state and federal.

Bereft of the ability to piss straight into the bowl and brush their teeth at the same time these tossers – who’d be so bloody stupid that they’d let a little geek from Bennelong take the piss out of them by calling them his battlers, and wear Johnny Howard’s badge with pride – would form a mad voting majority and we’d end up with our governments being run by crazed Catholic weirdos, nobodies from Nambour who by sheer force of will self-evolve into psychotic Dr Evils, pompous ex-Packer lawyers with a penchant for perennially pulling rabbits caught in the headlights impressions, and a whole bunch of illegally elected Poms, Seppos, Kiwis, Canadians and Krauts.

The Tyranny of Democracy.

The Toker couldn’t have been any more correct if he tried.  That bloke certainly knew his politics well, that’s for sure.

A certain modern-day mad bastard from Geebung named Archibald knows his politics pretty bloody goodly too.

New Zealand Labor has bounced from 22% and gone to the world in the pre-election polls to 37% and within a half-length of grabbing government since attractive young Jacinda Arden proved my exclusively reported prophecy correct by kicking the former loser of a Labor leader Andrew Little to touch early one windy Wellington morning just 21 days ago.

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Arden and Labor are coming home like Bernborough, and with a furlong still to run suddenly the bookies have wound them into tens on to salute the judge first at the winning post and cause the boilover of the century by snatching the big prize.

I told you so.

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Those three-quarters of c*nts from Geebung who don’t punt have always been queer, and not one of them’s ever backed a winner in their bloody lives. Durex deprived d*ckheads and totally deluded tyrants of democracy they are the lot of them.

The Toker and Archie have got their number sportsfans, and the Frog and I have the benefit-sucking, Howard battling bozos covered every single day of the week.

Don’t you worry about that.

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Archie Saw the Seeds of Australian Rugby’s Decay Sown Two Years Before Anyone in the ARU Apparently Did – Why? is the Question -Desperate Times Call For Ridiculous Measures – The Sad, Sad State of Australian Rugby (First Published 15 June 2015)

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Generated by IJG JPEG Library

If you didn’t have a calendar handy you would swear that the Wallabies train-on squad was simply an April Fool’s joke.

After all what nation that was serious about contesting the upcoming World Cup would select Will Genia, Quade Cooper, James O’Connor and Karmichael Hunt in their squad? The four blokes who masterminded – or at least, failed to stop – the Queensland Reds horrific collapse against the Waratahs on Saturday night, when through Reds ineptitude rather than Waratahs brilliance the scoreline went from 3-0 to 31-5 in what seemed like the mere blink of an eye?

The high-profile and high-priced recruitment of O’Connor and Hunt, along with the retention of Genia and Cooper, was spruiked as the magic recipe for another Super Rugby success for Queensland. It proved to be a simply an expensive suicide note, as all four failed miserably game after game throughout the season.

If they were racehorses you just wouldn’t feed them, and the quintet would be lining up in this year’s Birdsville Cup rather than being touted as prospects to don the Green and Gold at Twickenham and Wembley Stadium. Not one of them would make the starting 17 for an NRL club, and even cashed-up Japanese clubs must be wondering whether any of the most un-awesome foursome are worth the risk when players of the calibre – and fortitude – of Carter, McCaw and Mealamu are available on the open market.

The flash four disgraced their State on Saturday night. Please God don’t let the selectors allow them to disgrace our country.

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We Don’t Need no Education – We Don’t Need No Thought Control – All in All the LNP Says – Teacher Aides Should Just Be Bricks in the Wall

And the man in the back said everyone attack
And it turned into a ballroom blitz
And the girl in the corner said boy I want to warn you
It’ll turn into a ballroom blitz
Ballroom blitz, ballroom blitz, ballroom blitz, ballroom blitz

I have a confession to make sportsfans.

It was me who came up with idea of the Queensland Teacher Aide union organising blitz.

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Me and the Kingmaker.

The Kingmaker and I.

The year was 2011.

It was actually his idea.

But I mapped out the plan and put it into play.

In two single weeks we signed up nearly a thousand new Teacher Aide members to the union, and in the process of building number and educating and organising workers we gave a voice – a United Voice – to the highly committed and hitherto unrecognised Mums and Dads across the State who had started out by helping  their own kids in their classrooms and had quickly realised that there was a huge gap in the provision of education that needed to be filled, but didn’t know how to get the funding to do it.

We sourced research from highly respected academics that proved what teacher aides had told us and what we innately believed to be true – that targeted support for students provided by trained professional teaching support staff would enhance our kids education and produce markedly improved educational outcomes – and approached the Queensland Government and put the results of our research to them.

It was impossible to argue with our proposition that learning outcomes would be greatly improved if teachers were supported by properly trained professional staff who had security of employment tenure, and so the Government agreed. The question was how it could be achieved.

We declared that a house divided upon itself could never stand, and suggested that a properly organised Teacher Aide workforce acting as a collective force for the greater good rather than a narrowly focused and localised disparate amalgam of interests was the answer, and the Government agreed.

No-one wanted school classes invasively disrupted by union officials – not the union officials, or the government or the school administrators – even if the union educators were only seeking to teach teacher aides about how they could help students in the classes to secure better learning outcomes. There had to be better way to help our kids along the road to kicking their goals and achieving their hopes and dreams.

But teacher aides were predominantly parents employed by their schools on a casual hourly basis, if they were paid at all, and due to their family and other commitments the vast majority were unable to meet after hours to work out a plan to provide the kids in their classes with a better education and an enhanced chance at success in life. The only way forward was to meet with them during working hours, and after all this was absolutely a work issue.

Thus the concept of the organising blitzes was born.

One half hour every half year where teacher aides working in the state sector could meet with their elected representatives to talk about ways they could help the kids they helped the teachers teach to achieve improved outcomes at school. Private school support staff had been doing it for years.

It’s hardly what you’d call a crime is it?

Holding a kid back from reaching their full potential is though.

And the ‘Principal of two decades standing’ who told The Australian what is quoted below is either a Mexican blow-in from interstate, a private school Johnny who’s talking about something that doesn’t happen in his joint where Teacher Aides get paid like peasants, an idiot, imaginary, or a straight out goddamn liar.

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You’d never know which would you, because the Oz newspaper doesn’t tell you, which is typical of their outstanding reporting.

I’ll see yours Rupert and raise you two.

“A veteran Principal told Its Not Normal that the professional skill level of Teacher Aides had increased dramatically since schools recognised them as valuable employees rather than mere parent helpers in the classroom. “We have seen significant reductions in classroom disruption and marked increases in learning achievements since the Teacher Aides became recognised as education professionals” the Principal said. “I have only seen this since United Voice began their (2011) campaign to organise the sector”.

 

Its a Long and Winding Road to the Truth – And There are Many Bars, Barristers, Benches and Balustrades of Bullshit Along the Way – Don’t You Worry About That – Arise Judge Dennis and Alas Poor Yorick – But Whatever Happened to Queensland’s Brave New World?

On the 20th of November 2015 a plodding thirty-year legal aid dependent lawyer named Dennis Lynch was appointed a Queen’s Counsel and took silk.

A few days later, in Lynch’s first run since becoming appointed a QC, he took up the defense for a (wrongly) accused man named Garry Dubois in one of Queensland’s highest profile triple murder cases.

He f*cked it up royally.

Garry Dubois was convicted of two of the murders and an alternative count of manslaughter on the basis of evidence that should never in a million years have been admitted into the trial, and was sentenced to imprisonment for the term of the rest of his natural life, which when you’re 69 years old and suffer congenital heart disease, diabetes, and a host of other ailments and injuries probably ain’t that long.

Just one week after Dubois was convicted of the killings on the basis of spurious evidence allowed into the trial his barrister Dennis Lynch – who until just 12 months ago had been for 30 years regarded as a legal aid fee accepting plod – was appointed a judge of the Queensland District Court.

Weird isn’t it?

But not as weird as the comments of of the Chief Judge of the District Court of Queensland Kerry O’Brien as recorded in the published transcript of his speech formally welcoming Lynch to the bench.

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The ‘high profile case’ that Chief Judge O’Brien said delayed Lynch’s ascension to the judges bench was the McCulkin murder trial.

But that particular trial concluded on the 28th of November 2016 with guilty verdicts being declared by the jury against Dubois on most counts.

The Queensland Attorney-General Yvette D’Ath – married to a police officer working out of the Boondall Station just down the road from the Geebung RSL – did not announce the new judicial appointments including that of Dennis Lynch until the 2nd of December 2016.

So how on this earth or the universe could Lynch’s arrival at the District Court have been delayed by a trial that finished more than a week before?

How indeed?

Because the fix was in, that’s how.

The fix was in.

This is Queensland, the fix is always in, and the more things change in the land of mangoes and pineapples, the more they stay the same.

Don’t you worry about that.

Say it Ain’t So Auntie, Say it Ain’t So – Surely You’re Not Going to Allow a Dead Kid Denigrating Grub Closely Linked With an Elderly Woman-Bashing Lawyer to Pose as an Expert on Anything on Australia’s Publicly Funded National Television Station Are You? – Puh-Lease! – You Would Have to Be Kidding!

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Welcome, strangers, to the show
I’m the one who should be lying low
Saw the knives out, turned my back
Heard the train coming, stayed out on the track
In the middle, in the middle, in the middle of a dream
I lost my shirt, I pawned my rings
I’ve done all the dumb things

Paul Kelly – Dumb Things

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Say it ain’t so Aunty, say it ain’t so.

Tom Pickering may well be the poor man’s Norman Gunston or John Clarke, but not even he could sink to the depths of inviting the man who publicly asked a prominent television host whether it was okay to call his lost child ‘a grub’ who ‘deserved to die’ could he?

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And surely even if he did our publicly funded broadcaster would exercise responsible editorial control and prevent it from happening wouldn’t they?

After all if the ABC management neglected to prevent the dead infant basher Andrew McMicking from appearing as an expert on one of its nationally televised high-rating programs what the hell would come next?

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McMicking’s lawyer, friend and relative Paul Hudson appearing on taxpayer-funded TV extolling to the nation the wide range of virtues of his smash and bash strategy for dealing with recalcitrant elderly woman who get in his way?

Surely not Shirley, Shirley not.

Some Highly Pertinent Facts the Mainstream Media Aren’t Telling You About the What’s in the Tatts Group Annual Report – The News is All Bad

Despite all the hype and hoopla about how great the deal Racing Queensland cut with Tatts to give them a 30-year-monopoly on ripping off Queensland punters blind was, the true position as revealed in the annual report tells a decidedly different tale.

Here are some of the highlights.

The Hey Can Do You Told Us it Was a Thirty Year Deal Deceit

When the Tatts group – via its fully owned and operated subsidiary UBET – struck a deal in 2014 with the Queensland Government – through its fully owned and managed subsidiary Racing Queensland – to extend the company’s monopoly on providing on course, in-licensed venues, and at stand-alone outlet wagering services, the punters were told that it was strictly a 30 year deal.

The company’s annual report tells us something very, very different.

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Do you reckon anyone might give me a near-century long licence to run the Queensland punting mint? It would be really cool, and help a failed punt-addicted fool to put the grandkids grandkids through school.

My only real worry is how many political donations would I have to make, and in what amounts? And will there be a limit placed on the number of insider trading type-tips I will have to give to current and former elected government officials and their mates?

After all, if you blood a greyhound its always wanting to come back and bite you when it smells raw flesh, or an open wound.

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The Great Racing Industry Revenue Rip-Off

Tatts paid $80.2 million LESS to the State Government of Queensland – and hence to the racing industry of the State – than they did in the year before, a decrease of 5.8%

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Paid $3.4 million, or 1.7%, less to the racing industry in product fees in 2017 than they had in 2016, despite the fact that costs in the industry have risen not declined.

Great deal wasn’t it for racing sportsfans? Ever feel like you’ve been suckered?

The Titanic Tax Reduction Rort

Tatts paid $28.6 million less in income tax to the Commonwealth Government than they had the year before, a decrease of 24.9% in Federal revenue that could be applied to things such as national race and wagering regulation and monitoring compliance, capital grants funding or grants to race clubs, problem gambling prevention programs, or even poverty relief or shelter for families abused by chronic victims of the punt.

Cracker Tatts, absolutely cracker. Give yourselves a left hook in the head.

The Sensational Profit Bending Scam

The actual drop in net profit – the real dollar figure before the number fiddlers twist them and turn them – was a staggering $70.8 million or 18.7%.

To help hide the catastrophic result the Tatts numbers twisters have loaded post-tax merger profits of $23.4 million into the profit figures.

But Tatts haven’t merged with anyone yet have they? So any gain is yet to be realised isn’t it? Or have I just been asleep?

The Great Prop Your Assets By Inventing Billions of Bucks of Intangibles Ploy

This one’s an oldie but a goodie that Tatts have been using for years, but because you might not be familiar with the time-honored put the dice in your hat, peek and declare ‘craps!’ ploy I’ll go back over it.

Tatts have been loading about four and a half billion dollars worth of intangible assets on to the upside of their books for years. In fact assets of this intangible kind account for about 90% of those the company owns. Without them the Tatts Group asset position would look bloody terrible and they’d be quite a few billion in the hole.

It would be a lovely thing to be able to test the true value of the goodwill worth of the world’s worst exclusive parimutuel operator, but just like your life’s length itself and the course of it’s river, or the quantity of oxygen floating around in the sub-ozone atmosphere, or the number of stars in the universe, it’s intangible.

Make no mistake though it’s bloody big.

Huge even.

Don’t you worry about that.

The Devastating Lets Get Up to Our Eyeballs in Debt Distortion

Tatts are paying $46.4 million a year on earnings of just $354.1 million.

To reduce this to layman’s terms, imagine that you earn a hundred grand after tax – just under a couple of grand a week – but you’re so loaded up on credit cards that you have to throw $270 a week at the bank just to cover the interest. That’s thirteen and a half percent of your wages – a seventh of what the boss puts in the bank – just to pay the shylock’s vig and without paying a single cent on the principal amount you owe.

That’s the Tatts debt position, and at a time when the company’s income is plunging faster than Greg Louganis is hitting the water and sinking into the dive pool after jumping off a bouncing board ten meters up above and doing a triple twist as gravity pulls him down from his temporal floating position in the sky.

You’d just love to be the loan shark wouldn’t you?

The Slippery Old Uncle Kev and the Invisible Hand Olfaction

Kevin Seymour – the man whose hands seem to be everywhere in all that Tatts do in Queensland – is the largest individual shareholder in the company by the length of the old Eagle Farm straight.

Seymour owns 14.1 million shares worth about $60 to $70 million depending on the ASX price of the day, or about 10% of the company.

It’s little wonder given that when the dodgy as buggery Beattie Government gave away the TAB goldmine to private interests in 1999 it passed special legislation to exempt Seymour from the limitations on the number of shares available to be purchased that were placed on every other Queensland punter wanting a slice of the action, and thus gifted the one-time car park man the keys to the farm and its creeks full of gold.

By the way, and apropos of nothing, has anyone ever done some land searches to find out who owns the land all around Albion Park? It’s bloody interesting reading let me tell you, and don’t you worry about that.

The Utterly Useless One-Time Leader of the Liberal Party Pension Plan

Dr David Watson, the former MLA for the blue-ribbon Liberal Party state seat of Moggill and hapless leader of that party prior to its capitulation and merger with the National Party to create the LNP – earns just under $200 grand a year for his magnificent effort in managing to drag himself to 19 meetings a year and hoe into the free tucker and drinks.

The Cooking Up a Juicy Killing Reverse Robin Hood Con Job

Chief Executive Officer Robbie Cooke exercised his rights under his performance-based contract to acquire 253 383 additional shares in the company, a parcel worth more than a million bucks at the current ASX trading price.

Cooke also copped an annual pay increase of $226 324 in cold hard cash, and a few more thousand here and there in correspondingly increased leave and super benefits.

All on the back of a trading loss of $20.3 million, a decrease in profit of nearly 8%.

Its a good life for some isn’t it sportsfans?

I’m off to bed to grab forty Winx. See you at the staring stalls tomorrow.

Just make sure you don’t miss the jump.